Uther, Our Good King
by redlily188
Summary: "Uther may have mostly been a tyrant, your majesty, but he was a good King." Gwen's POV


**My little story of Gwen showing loyalty to Uther.**

**BETA: Word-Stringer**

"Oh Gwen," Morgana sighs as I softly brush through her hair. "It's so good to be Queen! And yet, so tiring." She contradicts, her tone slightly downcast, before brightening again. "I'm so glad I have you." She smiles at my reflection in the mirror, and I respond, my expression mimicking hers.

"I'll be a much better monarch than Uther ever was, don't you agree?" I nod as I stroke the brush through her long locks.

"What did Uther ever do that was so good?" She continues. I shrug noncommittally.

"Nothing, that's what..." She stares at me with concern as I continue to comb her hair. "Gwen, you agree with me, don't you?" She asks uncertainly. I sigh and pause midstroke.

"Uther may have mostly been a tyrant, your majesty, but he was a good King."

Morgana raised an perfectly arched eyebrow. "When did he ever show an act of kindness to you; he ordered your father to be killed! He would have let you die in my place, if Arthur hadn't rescued you!"

"Well, he did show an act of kindness towards me once." I inform her.

Morgana looks curious. "Tell me."

"Of course, my lady." I comply.

…

- TIME TRAVEL FLASHBACK -

(Teenage Gwen)

Oh, goodness me! I am so tired; Morgana has continuously kept me up all night with her nightmares! Not that I mind, really, because she's such a great friend and I'd do anything for her – even if that means staying up all night trying to convince her that the nightmares aren't real.

It's too bad about the nightmares; they've been plaguing her since the day we met, but they've been getting increasingly worse lately, and at night I hear her muttering the word 'Emrys' with fear.

Whatever that means.

The weirdest thing is that she doesn't even remember anything she dreams about. In fact, I bet I'm the only one who actually knows the what she's actually dreaming about. Like last night:

…

"Gwen!" She had screamed. I had immediately ran to her side and tried to soothe her.

"Shhh, it's alright, my lady, it's alright."

"No, Gwen, it's not! I'm sorry, so, so sorry!"

"For what?"

"I hurt you; I hurt everyone! I'm evil, Gwen, evil!"

It was, is, too hard to think of my sweet friend as anything near evil. So I just hugged my best friend and whispered "It's just a dream, I promise, it's just a dream."

…

I honestly don't know what goes through her head at times; during the day, she's so strong-willed, but at night she screams in terror. And the things she says... well, they're enough to give me nightmares!

But I really shouldn't dwell on this now; Morgana's laundry should be about ready, and she'll want her dress delivered before the banquet tonight. So I drag my sleep deprived self up and down the castle.

At the laundry room, I see my friend, Carissa. She's not a Camelot native, and tells everyone she comes from an island across the sea.

"'Oy, there, Gwen!" She hollers as I enter the room.

"Hey, Carissa." I reply. "Do you have Morgana's dress?"

"I sure do! Washed, dried, ironed and pressed; just the way the lady likes it, 'ey?"

I smile and nod. "Yeah, thank you, Carissa."

"Just doing my job, 'ey? You know, I think you'd look very purty in this dress 'ere. I'm sure no one would notice if you try it on." She winks.

I shake my head softly. Carissa always tells me I'm beautiful enough to be Queen – like that'll ever happen.

"I shouldn't; the dress is very expensive, and I couldn't take the risk – you and I would be banned from Camelot if anything happened to it."

Carissa sticks out her lip in a pouting motion. "Oh, Gwen, you are a load of dung; so boring! What's life without a little risk?"

"I really shouldn't..."

"C'mon Gwen – have some fun for once! It'll only be for a minute! I have a mirror and e'erything! You'll look so purty!"

My teenage vanity begins to sink in. The dress I'm wearing is really quite flimsy, and I've always wanted to feel Morgana's soft silk gown rustle around my body. I bite my lip. I'm sure that - if I am very careful - nothing bad will happen to it. After all, I help Morgana with it every day.

I smile. "Oh, alright."

Carissa's thin body bounces up and down as she claps. "Oh joy! Let's get you changed!"

She quickly wrenches off the filthy rag that is barely passable as a dress and then slowly picks up Morgana's luxurious purple gown with careful fingers. "Gotta be gentle with this 'un." She mutters to herself.

I stretch my arms above my head as Morgana does every morning, and a sea of purple surrounds me. As the soft silk caresses my skin I react instantly, and my body feels at peace.

Carissa carefully arranges the dress as I do for Morgana, then steps back to survey me.

"Oh deary me; don't my friend look purty! 'Ere, I'll fetch a mirror!"

Before you could say 'Camelot' she was back, brandishing a very large dusty mirror. She holds it in front of me.

"Um..." I remind her I can't see myself with all the dust.

"Oh right!" She realises, and quickly brushes over the surface. My reflection is a little distorted, but I can see myself well enough to be in awe; it fits me almost perfectly, although it could be a little shorter, and the color suits my skin tone amazingly. I must say: I truly look like a princess.

"Well, what're you thinkin'?" Carissa questions.

"I think..." I swallow. "I think purple is my new favorite color." We both laugh but are suddenly silenced by a yell.

"Thief!" A knight screams at me.

"No-" I try to explain, but he cuts me off.

"You are thieving the Lady Morgana's dress! You will pay for this!" With that he grabs my hair.

"Gwen!" Carissa calls after me.

"Don't –ow- follow ! You'll get yourself into trouble!"

I'm halfway hoping he's taking me to the dungeons, but as we make our way upwards through the castle, I know we are heading to a place much, much worse.

The throne room.

…

When we arrive at the throne room, the knight gruffly pulls me closer to him. "We have caught a thief in the castle."

One of the knights nods, and opens the doors to allow us in.

The knight throws me on the ground where I cry out in pain. I look up to see that the room is empty apart from the King, knight and me. I don't know whether to be grateful or terrified; it's obviously good not to face public humiliation, but who knows what the King will do Morgana defending me? The King looks down at me with hard eyes. "Leave us." He commands the knight, who nods and does as he is ordered. When the door clicks shut behind us, Uther stands up and makes his way to the window.

"You are Morgana's maid, are you not?"

"I am." I reply, desperately trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"And she has been good to you, has she not?"

"Very good, sire."

"The why would you make an attempt to steal her dress?" He asks, rounding back on me.

"I wasn't trying to steal it-"

"So you are accusing a Knight of Camelot a lying?"

"No, sire."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

"He was mistaken, sire."

"Mistaken?" He looks at me curiously, and sits himself back on the throne. "And how was he mistaken?"

"I was just trying the dress on, sire; I hadn't planned on stealing it."

"You do realize a servant is never supposed to wear a noble's clothing?"

"I do, sire. But it's just that..." To my surprise, he doesn't interrupt, so I continue my explanation. "I have a raggedly dress, my lord, and Morgana's dress was just lying there. I couldn't help myself... I just wanted to see what it felt like..."

Uther nods. "I have seen your dress you wear, and it is, indeed, atrocious." I don't know what to say, so my mouth doesn't reply. "You will go back to your regular dress and return Morgana's. You are dismissed."

I look at him, my eyes wide. Really? Truly? Was I actually being sent away with no punishment? When Uther picks up a scroll and begins reading, I take that as a yes. I stand up, give a deep curtsy, and scramble out of the room.

An hour later, Morgana's dress was hanging where it belonged, and I was back in my rags; everything was back to normal.

Well, almost everything.

…

A week later, a package shows up at the door to our house. My father says it is addressed to me anonymously.

"What is it?" I ask, excited.

"I don't know, Gwen – why don't you open it and find out?"

I do so and reveal a proper purple dress, just my size. I quickly try it on, and – although it isn't as pretty as Morgana's – it is very nice.

With it, came a scribbled not:

_No servant deserves a dress made of rags._

_-U_

Each year after that, I receive a new dress. King Uther may not have realized it, but he had gained my loyalty. Forever.


End file.
